Your article about women and fly fishing led me to tell you my fly fishing story. Fly fishing was never an interest to me until this year. Sure, I have some amazing memories of fishing with my father when I was a child on the McKenzie River at Doris Landing, with our Spinning Rods and Salmon eggs and a packed lunch. I would see the men floating down the river in big boats, laughing, yelling, smoking cigars, waving their rods in and out of the water as I sat on the big rock waiting for a bite. Always wondering in my mind, what kind of fish are they trying to catch?
Until about seven months ago, when I met a wonderful young man, who began telling me about the sport of fly fishing. At first I only listened because I was very interested in him, but as he began describing stories of his past trips, childhood memories and the enthusiasm he had even for tying the flies, my ears perked up. It was as if I couldn’t get enough information fast enough. I wanted to learn. I wanted that excitement, that happiness. I wanted my eyes to sparkle as his were, just telling me his stories.
See this last year and a half I have been severely depressed, honestly not knowing how I would get out of my funk. A long marriage that went bust, and some other major issues had put me in a hole.
Listening to the stories and the beauty of the sport via pictures, books and blogs, I decided to take a fly fishing class at our local fly shop. The first class I took was in August and it had to be 100 degrees out, and we all sat inside with no A/C, talking about the terminology of fly fishing. Now, I will admit the gentleman that taught the class was very easy on the eyes and the way he cast the line made him and the sport ever more attractive. So after six classes out on the ponds and next to the shop, I decided to rent a rod from the shop and hit the river. I had no idea even where to go, so I decided to head up Hwy. 58. I packed my rented rod, some newly purchased flies, my puppy and some drinks.
I found a likely spot, parked and started walking a ways. I strung the rod and started wading into the river. It was refreshing, as it was a very hot day. I was amazed just being surrounded with the beauty of the mountains, the water, the trees, the birds, the soft breeze and a few white clouds drifting by. I felt so happy to be out there even though I lost mucho flies in the bushes and in the river. I definitely needed to practice tying my fly on the tippet. I was at peace for the first time in a very long time- I could have stayed out there all day and night, but obligations of children brought me home. But the desire to go again and again was born.
The most memorable day, thus far, I have had fly fishing, was when I went fly fishing with the young man who introduced the sport to me. We left early in the day and headed toward the mountains. I took him to the place the fly shop and another friend had recommended to me. I caught three fish nymphing with a strike indicator. He tutored me on when to strike as he watched the strike indicator bobbing along the current seam. Well, let’s say it was a joint effort. I had a blast. Not only to be out on the beautiful water, learning, but to be in such good company-such a good friend. I feel very lucky and blessed that we crossed paths-not only because of a friendship that grew, but also being introduced to something I had no clue about and probably would never have discovered without him.I have since continued to reasearch and fish although not as much as I would like to since Winter has come. I have had amazing friends give me lots of fishing gear and support this last year. I have my own gear now including my very own rod and reel. I have joined two local fly fishing groups and am still looking for a buddy to fish with.
I probably wont ever get to go fishing with my fine attractive friend as he has moved away and I don’t have a picture, which is too bad for the ladies, but his face, body and energy will always be engraved in my mind and heart. I don’t have any pictures of myself (not a HOT young nymph) holding any big trout or salmon but I sure am hooked!
So keep looking ladies our fishing angel is our there in one form or another-handsome or not.
(Reading the narrative leaves little doubt (if I may generalize…well, of course I can…its my blog)…that women often bring a different perspective to the sport or any endeavor for that matter. It is more than the recent fishing ad re ‘women speak 21,000 words a day and men 7,000 words a day. No, women will stop to look at the butterfly. I for one hope FFG continues with her new found passion in FFing. One universal truth: Women and Men crave The Moment)
Uh…as a potential literary force, like Creek, I would suggest going from the diminutive s to a bold, cap S
Oh go catch a fish and stop all this girly stuff! No really, that is real. Been through this with losses. You have found a way up and out. nice blog
I understand this draw to the water and trying to find peace after changes in life. Nice way of expressing yourself.
I know a man who speaks way more than 21,000 words a day…probably why his marriage went bust.
That is so beautiful…thanks for sharing Switters Man!!! Thank you so much.